


umami

by ixidem



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Hands, Holding Hands, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:49:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27680977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ixidem/pseuds/ixidem
Summary: Miya Osamu’s hands were the first thing Shinsuke noticed about him.They were nowhere near as pristine as his twin brother’s well-kept setter hands, but there was something entrancing about the skillful way he wrapped his neat, manicured hands around his onigiris.mutual pining… in which onigiri miya’s charming owner and a handsome rice farmer find home within each other… and fixate on each other’s oh-so-capable hands.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Osamu
Kudos: 41





	umami

Miya Osamu’s hands were the first thing Shinsuke noticed about him. 

They were nowhere near as pristine as his twin brother’s well-kept setter hands, but there was something entrancing about the skillful way he wrapped his neat, manicured hands around his onigiris. 

Failing to notice the intrusion, Osamu continued sculpting the rice deftly, treating the food with a gentle reverence that was rare to see. Dawn filtered in through the window, illuminating small white scars that covered his fingers. There was a glint of hunger and excitement in Osamu’s usually deadpan eyes, his thoughts foreign and unknown to the rice farmer who stood in tranquil contemplation. 

Quietly setting down the sack of fresh rice on the side, Shinsuke glanced at his own tanned knuckles. Long days of labor in the fields were reflected in his rough joints, also similarly scarred from the scythe’s merciless blade.

Finally, Osamu felt the golden gaze trained on him. 

“Ah, Kita. You’re here.” A soft smile graced the shop owner’s face, hunger now replaced by contentment. 

“I’ve brought the latest harvest.” 

“Thank you. I always look forward to your deliveries, y’know.” 

“Glad to hear.” Shinsuke chuckled. “Do you need any help?”

“Could always use help with chopping up the fresh ingredients.” Osamu said, jerking his head toward the fresh ingredients on the counter. “You know how bad I am with the knife.” 

Shinsuke stepped behind the counter, closing the distance between the two. Osamu swallowed, still unused to the farmer’s radiant presence. 

“Today’s special is shirasu and pickled radish.” Osamu quickly stuttered.

“Trying something new?” Shinsuke’s eyes crinkled in a smile. 

“Yup.”

Comfortable silence blanketed the two as they worked in tandem — Shinsuke chopping the daikon, Osamu shaping and wrapping the rice. This wasn’t necessarily a new ritual for the two, as they had been business partners since the shop opened a few months ago. It felt only natural, but the air seemed swollen with tension today. 

Osamu snuck a glance here and there, afraid to meet his companion’s eyes, instead opting to focus on the capable hands that steadily chopped away. Shinsuke’s right hand was firmly wrapped around the hilt of the knife, his other hand carefully securing the yellow daikon in place. 

Feeling the scrutiny, Shinsuke looked up, head tilted. 

The blazing, starving passion behind Osamu’s eyes startled him, causing the knife to slip from Shinsuke’s grip and graze the latter’s finger. The farmer winced, but the pain was immediately replaced by warmth as Osamu clasped his hand in concern. 

“Oh no, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Osamu’s brows knitted together. 

“I-I’m fine.” 

The atypical hesitation caused Osamu to lift his eyes to Shinsuke’s face — which was now dusted with a crimson blush — then quickly look away. 

“I’ll get you a band-aid. Hold on.”

Osamu pulled open a drawer, revealing a mountain of stray bandages. He gently navigated Shinsuke’s hand to the sink, rinsing it and toweling it off with such painstaking meticulousness one would imagine he were handling fragile porcelain. 

After expertly wrapping the band-aid around Shinsuke’s finger, Osamu felt a hot flush creeping up his neck, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he tenderly stroked Shinsuke’s palm, running his fingers across the lines that criss-crossed in the center of the farmer’s hand. 

Their hands tangled together, a mess of long digits and rough skin. Yet their hands interlocked perfectly, the gaps of their fingers slotting into each other like the most natural thing in the world, blue veins pulsating like stars buried under flesh. 

Osamu finally met the other’s gaze, only to be astonished by the ardor that had pooled in Shinsuke’s amber eyes. 

A dam broke within Osamu, whose insatiable appetite flared up, making him desperate to consume every detail of his stoic partner, to peel the rind, kiss the scabs, and lap at the sheer yearning that Shinsuke now exuded. 

In turn, Shinsuke looked to give, and give, and give. He desired to sew Osamu’s caress into his skin, touch being an infrequent luxury to the oft-unaccompanied farmer. 

Time seemed to stop as the two struggled to embalm the other’s contact, but the stark ringing of a bell, signaling the first customer of the day, brought them back to earth. 

“Welcome to Onigiri Miya! What can I get for you?” Osamu choked out, all too aware of the connection that the customer had rudely severed. 

To his surprise, the soft squeeze on his palm reminded him — the seeds of affection had been sown and made aware of; it was here to stay.

**Author's Note:**

> something about the tenderness between rough hands...just gets me, y'know. also first draft final draft gang. where's the tag that's like no beta we die like men bc that's my entire writing philosophy lmao
> 
> scream about kita/osamu/hq/etc. with me at [@ixidem!](https://twitter.com/ixidem)


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